


dying on your lips (is how i want to go)

by shoutz



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Anal Sex, Biting, Dirty Talk, M/M, Nidstinien, Possessive Sex, Rough Sex, dragon dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:29:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26471155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shoutz/pseuds/shoutz
Summary: —but everybody knows that home is where your teeth sink, love.“Out with it, then.”“Well, I… It pertains to… Those moments, when we, er…”The pink of his ears is the only hint Estinien needs to know what he means. “Swive?”Aymeric sputters, the blush deepening as he scrambles to correct.“Make love.”He clears his throat, suddenly incapable of holding eye contact for longer than a fraction of a second at a time. Estinien waits patiently for the Speaker of the House of Lords to find his words once more. “And… Well, you don’t quite lose yourself, per se, but… When the remainder of Nidhogg’s essence makes itself known, for lack of better phrasing.”Ah.Nidhogg had left his mark on Estinien after the Dragonsong War had come to an end, even with the beast well and truly slain and the eyes out of both sight and mind. It only boiled to the surface in climactic moments, typically during a fight, or…Well.
Relationships: Aymeric de Borel/Estinien Wyrmblood
Comments: 29
Kudos: 139





	dying on your lips (is how i want to go)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nightmist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightmist/gifts).



> for ginger 💖!!!!!! please enjoy!!!!!!!!!! some good ol' fashioned nidstinien. soup for the soul. enjoy my spicy spicy soup
> 
> title from [Kiss Me You Animal — Burn the Ballroom](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bZTkvPSxmZ8)

“Estinien?”

Estinien suppresses a sigh. It’s the name (full, instead of a pet name like _love_ or _dear)_ and tone (like he’s trying to be casual while suturing his own wound shut) that Aymeric uses when he’s distressingly nervous about something, due to perhaps his own tendencies to overthink or the nature of the conversation he means to broach. And so Estinien grunts a questioning _hmm_ in response, continuing to buff out a handful of dents in his armor. Aymeric sits at his desk still; he had been busying himself with paperwork until he had seen fit to break their comfortable silence.

“I… There is something I would ask of you. It’s— Nothing of significant consequence, of course, just… I do not wish to burden you overmuch before your departure.”

“I’ll be gone for a single night, Aymeric,” Estinien tries to say without rolling his eyes. “If that long. You speak as if your request were life or death.”

Aymeric shakes his head, paperwork abandoned completely as he rounds the desk. “No, nothing so dire as that. Just… Something to think on, for when you return.”

“In less than a night.” Estinien’s tone is dry and he doesn’t meet Aymeric’s eyes. He can see in his mind the look on his face, right down to the raised eyebrow and deadpan, unamused gaze.

“Yes.”

Aymeric hesitates just a breath too long, and Estinien cracks. He ceases work on his dented plate and looks up to his lover, his confidante, his best friend and most trusted ally. Only to be greeted by the exact expression he had predicted.

“Out with it, then.”

The bravado cracks in half. “Well, I… It pertains to… Those moments, when we, er…”

The pink of his ears is the only hint Estinien needs to know what he means. “Swive?”

Aymeric sputters, the blush deepening as he scrambles to correct. _“Make love.”_ He clears his throat, suddenly incapable of holding eye contact for longer than a fraction of a second at a time. Estinien waits patiently for the Speaker of the House of Lords to find his words once more. “And… Well, you don’t quite _lose_ yourself, per se, but… When the remainder of Nidhogg’s essence makes itself known, for lack of better phrasing.”

_Ah._

Nidhogg had left his mark on Estinien after the Dragonsong War had come to an end, even with the beast well and truly slain and the eyes out of both sight and mind. It only boiled to the surface in climactic moments, typically during a fight, or…

Well.

“And I…have been thinking of it. Often. As of late.”

That much is evident in his tone, the pink tinge of his cheeks and the tips of his ears, the way he can’t quite straighten the pile of papers on his desk no matter how much he fidgets with it.

“And?” Estinien asks, entirely devoid of assumption or expectation or judgement. Fury knows Aymeric’s mind will supply enough of those on its own.

 _“And,_ I have come to realize that…” He swallows thickly and Estinien does not think the next part of his statement will be what the worst-case scenario implies, but a twinge of nervousness settles low in his gut regardless. “That I quite enjoy it, actually.”

_Huh._

Of all the things Aymeric could have said regarding his body’s propensity to adopt more draconic traits in situations of great stress, sexual or otherwise, Estinien did not predict _this_ to be his grand request. And certainly not the one to which he would profess before Estinien took his leave for a night.

But, Fury, if it isn’t the most _arousing_ thing he could have said.

Estinien looks up to see Aymeric’s cheeks and ears darken even more in color somehow, and a hunger in his eyes that speaks volumes to what an understatement _I quite enjoy it_ had been. A blue like the sky burns at him and he can only hope his midnight gaze tells Aymeric exactly what he wants to hear.

“If you’re not yet… _comfortable_ with that facet of yourself, of course I completely understand, but I…” Aymeric bites his lip for a moment as he considers his words. “I don’t want you to make any incorrect assumptions regarding how I feel about it.”

Estinien’s mind races as Aymeric approaches him, closing in on his personal space. He feels the temperature of the air rise and desperately ignores the urge to take him _now_ instead of waiting until after his trip.

One of Aymeric’s hands traces a gentle, slow path from his elbow to his wrist, fingertips featherlight once they close around Estinien’s hand.

“I trust you, love. Every part of you, with the whole of my being.” He looms closer still, close enough that his breath caresses Estinien’s skin much like his fingers do, cool against the blush of his ears. Aymeric’s voice lowers into a whisper that reaches his very core. “Even the parts of you you may not yourself trust.”

Estinien feels that part of himself _surge_ with need.

But as quickly as he had approached, Aymeric retreats back to a chaste distance. A sudden chill washes over the side of him that had been so warm, the side that Aymeric had teased and urged into interest at the very least before retreating. Estinien swallows hard and nods once, taking his cue as he sees it. “I’ll be back by tomorrow evening,” he chokes out with the effort of tearing himself away.

The temptation to stay and take him now is nigh irresistible, of course, but Aymeric and Estinien both know that absolutely _nothing_ would get done if he did, on either of their parts. So for both of their sakes, Estinien takes a deep breath and tries to calm himself.

Aymeric smiles, sweet as syrup, and presses a kiss to his cheek. “Be safe, love. I will await your return.”

* * *

Estinien returns the next evening, long past sunset. His task had been of little consequence overall, other than to gain intelligence that will move other people’s plans forward. There is more to do at a later date but what they garnered will provide a suitable foundation for what is to come.

It all leaves his mind the moment he walks through Aymeric’s door.

He does not so much as knock as he enters the home, knowing that with ample time to prepare and anticipate Estinien’s arrival, Aymeric likely sent away any unwanted third parties for the evening long before. The home is as it always has been, neat and relatively modest and less trafficked than its owner’s office back in the Congregation. But Estinien cares little and less for interior decor.

He enters the home to see Aymeric standing and approaching from in front of his hearth, across the hall as he comes to a halt upon seeing Estinien. They regard each other for the span of a breath, grateful for the other’s presence — Aymeric for Estinien’s return, and Estinien for Aymeric’s reliability to which he could return at all — and no doubt considering what comes next and how to get there.

Aymeric’s awed expression melts into fond relief. “Welcome home, love.”

It is the spark that lights the fire that will burn through the rest of their night.

Estinien closes the distance between them in a few steps and does not hesitate in taking Aymeric’s face in his hands and kissing him as if he had been gone _months_ instead of a mere night. Aymeric’s lips receive his with enthusiasm and need, parting almost immediately to Estinien’s insistence. Strong arms pull his lover closer, crushing him to his chest as he sates desires that have been brewing for an entire night and day. 

They part for air, staying in each other’s spaces simply because they can. Estinien rolls his hips against Aymeric’s body where they’re pressed together, groaning low at the friction.

“Have you thought on it?” Aymeric whispers, gazing at Estinien through half-lidded eyes. They shine with a blue heat on which Estinien is unafraid to sear himself charred.

In response, Estinien pulls Aymeric’s waist into his own, stiff length only barely concealed by the fabric of his trousers. He hums a low note in response to Aymeric’s question, one that could be construed as a moan, though one which Estinien hopes Aymeric takes as a confirmation, paired as it is with his not-so subtle display.

“And?” Aymeric says with a sly grin, hand tracing a slow path down Estinien’s torso to rest at the hem of his tunic. Estinien blinks once, carefully measuring the response that jumps first to the tip of his tongue.

“And I think I’ve been waiting far too long for this.”

Estinien abandons inhibition and captures Aymeric’s mouth with his own, relishing in the man’s responding moan as he does so. His hands fist in Estinien’s tunic and pull him flush to his own torso, drinking deep of his lover like a man starved, and one who is happy to be consumed in return.

Eventually Aymeric loses his patience and rucks up Estinien’s tunic until he relents and backs off to shed it, a sight Aymeric is happy to consume with those same hungry, burning eyes. He returns the gesture in kind, of course, having traded his usual complicated uniform for an easily removable shirt that he’s quick to unbutton and toss to the side. They meet in the middle, pressing together once more like two astral bodies that cannot help but fall prey to each others’ gravitational pull.

Of course, it is in their true nature to collide. Entities obtain their gravitational force not only from their own constituent matter, but also the matter under their influence that is drawn to them in turn.

Estinien looks to his lover and sees the night sky and all the celestial bodies contained within, and in a bare second he understands the truth: Aymeric is a constellation all his own. A star to guide him home, unfalteringly. As natural as gravity, as true as sunrise and sunset.

He presses into another heated kiss as Aymeric’s wandering fingers find his waist, untying the trousers to ease them over his hips and to the floor. His cock presses a stiff line against the fabric of his smalls, one which Aymeric eagerly palms to even further hardness. Estinien surges into his touch, a groan vibrating through his chest as deft fingers work him over through the fabric. It’s almost too much, Estinien _almost_ tells him to stop, but Aymeric pulls away and walks briskly towards his bedroom, leaving him to follow in his wake.

On the way Aymeric sheds his clothes with ease, revealing his frame bit by bit and the lack of smallclothes beneath his trousers that erodes Estinien’s restraint even further. The line of his hips and waist as he walks, the strength in his back and shoulders… Estinien feels the strong urge to scratch it red and raw, to _mark_ Aymeric. Once in the bedroom Estinien crowds Aymeric against the bed, palming a handful of his ass as a thinly veiled attempt to pull him closer.

“I want all of you, love,” Aymeric murmurs, surprisingly tender as they share breaths. “I want all you have to give me.”

Estinien presses a tender kiss to soft lips, quenching the fire for the briefest of moments. “Then you shall have it.”

The heat returns when Aymeric surges forward, kissing Estinien and threading a hand through snowy hair to hold him. One of his legs presses up between Estinien’s and he moans low into the sensations, grinding his hips against the firm line of Aymeric’s thigh. The hand not in Estinien’s hair delves to tug at his smallclothes, eventually tugging them over his hips to fall to the floor so Aymeric can wrap his fingers around his cock in earnest. Estinien groans and scratches those red lines across Aymeric’s shoulder blades like two angel’s wings, hips surging into the touch as he grows harder at the mere promise of friction and sweet relief.

Nidhogg’s aether had stained him, ‘tis true enough, though it does not only make itself known in moments of passion. His body had changed as well, marred and scarred from the eyes which had embedded themselves into his flesh and soul…on top of _other_ anatomical differences.

Anatomical differences which Aymeric is more than happy to trace with a gentle, coaxing touch. His fingers line patterns down the shaft over its ridges and deformities, down to the tip and its head where it tapers into slightly more of a point than it did before. Patches of dark scales remain around the base and some down the shaft, smooth to the touch, more like a snake than a wyrm in texture. It’s longer and thicker for his trouble, as well, something which Estinien knows won’t deter his lover but instead spur him forth.

Ser Aymeric de Borel is not one to back down from a _challenge._

Estinien leans Aymeric backwards until he relents and falls onto the bed. He takes the opportunity to press Aymeric further into the sheets, kissing with more teeth and tongue and fire as his hand continues to stroke the length of Estinien’s hard cock in no real rush. Estinien props himself up on one arm while the other hand delves between Aymeric’s spread legs. When his touch presses gingerly into his entrance, Estinien finds it surprisingly pliant.

He pulls back from their kiss, awaiting an explanation. Aymeric’s shining, nearly bruised lips turn up in a lazy, satisfied smirk. “What can I say? The anticipation rendered me restless. I had to do _something_ to bide my time.”

“Insatiable…” Estinien groans against his lips, pressing two fingers past his entrance with ease. Aymeric sighs and his eyelids flutter shut, hiding the bright blue of daybreak from Estinien’s view. His grip tightens around Estinien’s length as he thrusts in and out, enough to have Estinien faltering in his slow and steady pace.

“For you? Ever and always,” Aymeric murmurs, but his grip suddenly tightens _more_ as he strokes and Estinien has to bite back a choked moan. “Insatiable and _impatient._ I have waited far too long for this indulgence, my dearest.”

“A single _night,”_ he breathes, crooking his fingers and pressing them deeper than Aymeric should have been able to reach on his own, deep enough to press against his prostate in small strokes.

“Fury, Estinien — _ah, fuck_ — must I _beg?”_ Aymeric keens, head thrown back against the pillows and eyes shut tight against the world as pleasure lances through him.

It’s Estinien’s turn to smirk, now, as he removes his fingers. “If you’re offering to beg, I certainly wouldn’t say no.”

Aymeric holds his silence in anticipation as Estinien lifts one of his legs in the crook of an elbow and lines himself up with his entrance. He holds there for a few moments, tip barely pressed against him, and looks up to see Aymeric’s lip caught between his teeth, eyes still shut tight. When Estinien stays silent and holds in place, Aymeric finally looks up to see his lover bearing one raised, expectant eyebrow.

Aymeric’s hips squirm in an attempt to urge Estinien into motion but he remains still, patiently waiting with the slightest hint of a smirk.

“Well?”

“Estinien.” Aymeric uses a different tone with that name now, one not of nerves but rather one of urgent need.

“Yes?”

_“Please.”_

With that, Estinien relents — not only to Aymeric’s need, but his own burning desire to fuck and to take and to _ruin_ — and pushes past his entrance to fill him in one smooth thrust. Estinien remains in place for a moment, letting Aymeric adjust to the difference between his fingers or a toy and the full length and girth of him, until Aymeric begins to squirm and whine his impatience, clenching around Estinien’s cock so enticingly that he can’t help but move.

And move, he does. He starts with shallow thrusts, barely pulling out more than an inch or two before thrusting back in as far as he can, and it’s worth it all to hear the quiet punched-out moans spill from Aymeric’s lips each time he presses their hips flush together. The hot friction of Aymeric around him is nearly too much, fracturing the meager bits of his control still remaining to him. He starts going faster, longer strokes that have Aymeric fisting a hand in his hair and pulling him down into an urgent, heated kiss, one that Estinien licks into with earnest abandon.

In a slow, gradual wave Estinien feels Nidhogg’s essence start to unearth itself from deep within, a desperate heat and need and sense of _urgency_ that chip away at his control. His thrusts speed up even further and they push Aymeric into the mattress. Estinien moves to instead suck bruising kisses into the pale column of his neck while Aymeric writhes, hands in Estinien’s hair to hold him in place and urge him to continue marking him. His hips rise to meet Estinien’s as they move in tandem, a rhythm of giving and taking on each side that nudges them both closer to the edge ilm by ilm.

 _“Blessed Halone…_ I would take all you have to give, Estinien… All and more— _fuck!”_

That energy builds within Estinien in tandem with the pleasure and slowly his control starts to slip; he thrusts harder, faster, pulling nearly all the way out before slamming back in with enough force to jostle Aymeric beneath him. The bedposts creak with strain but Estinien has no mind to pay them unless they were to break. He sees red behind closed eyelids as his teeth close around the junction between Aymeric’s neck and shoulder and a deeply buried, animalistic part of him screams _mine, he’s mine, this is my claim._

He voices his thoughts aloud, whispered hoarse against heated skin bruised an angry red where his teeth had punctured the surface. He pulls back just enough to look up at Aymeric, and is glad he did so if only to see the look on his face while Estinien takes him apart.

“By the _Fury…_ Estinien, you—” Aymeric starts, but his thought is cut short by a particularly brutal thrust at an angle that has him _clenching_ around Estinien. The friction is enough to wrench another wave of pleasure through him, another minute slip of his control. He groans low into Aymeric’s shoulder and bites down harder, losing himself to the waves of Nidhogg’s energy as they boil to the surface. The sensations and surges of energy are only amplified by the fact that this is what Aymeric _wants;_ rather than some deformity to be hidden, Aymeric would have this facet of him on display, wielded against him like a weapon.

And more than that, he would take his own pleasure from it. It’s a level of trust that warms Estinien beneath the already-cloying layers of heat and pressure, one that makes him feel so _secure_ even as he ruts into Aymeric with increasingly reckless abandon.

Estinien tastes the tang of blood where his teeth are still latched onto Aymeric. His tongue laves at the wound with a small amount of guilt nudging beneath the surface and Aymeric arches his torso into Estinien as he continues his bruising, punishing pace.

If Aymeric can walk tomorrow, it will be a miracle from Halone Herself.

To solidify this, Estinien hikes Aymeric’s leg up higher, bending him nearly in half at the hip and shifting him so his thrusts angle harder, _deeper._ Aymeric can do nothing but moan and bonelessly urge him onward with the weak hand still gripping his hair while the other stays clenched tight in the sheets.

The Borel manse would be quiet and at peace if not the telltale smack of skin on skin and the moans and sighs that Aymeric cannot help but let into the air. The fire in the hearth is nearly unnecessary in the wake of their own heat, reflected and magnified by each other’s need. Estinien’s entire existence, the whole of his understanding is reduced to his own pleasure and Aymeric’s, the clench of his entrance around Estinien’s cock, the texture of his scales and ridges and the tip’s brutal point as it pounds into him.

A litany of moans and sighs and outright whimpers pours from Aymeric’s lips and fingers tighten in his hair, his free hand seeking and finding his own cock to stroke where it lay against his stomach, flushed and hard and leaking.

“Yes… Estinien, please, _harder,_ I’m so close… Talk to me, tell me how it feels…”

Estinien answers with a low growl that vibrates through his chest, shifting his rhythm to a staccato pace that dissolves Aymeric’s coherence even further. “Gods, you’re so _tight…_ And all _mine…_ ”

“Yours, yes, _yours…”_ Aymeric sighs, stroking himself faster to keep up with Estinien’s brutal pace. “Yours, to take apart, to _ruin—”_

_“Aymeric—”_

Another clench and another groan have Estinien and Aymeric tumbling over the edge together, riding the waves of each other’s pleasure as the blinding heat of their release takes them both. Aymeric spills across his own stomach and chest, and Estinien only serves to spread the mess as he continues to ride out his release in Aymeric’s ass. 

They return to themselves in slow parts, two celestial bodies descending to walk among men once more. It takes a few breathless minutes before Estinein’s cock softens and the discomfort of the mess he made outweighs the desire to remain buried within Aymeric for the rest of the night and into the morning. Aymeric lets out a quiet sigh as he does so, spread out upon ruined sheets so wantonly that Estinien can feel the smoldering embers of his desire, the remnants of an inferno that, with enough care, could be coaxed into another, and another, and _another._

And Estinien would satisfy that desire again, and again, and _again,_ so long as Aymeric’s stamina and desire remain.

Estinien receives his answer as he rolls boneless to lay beside Aymeric. He does not so much as fully exhale before Aymeric is rolling over to crawl on top of him, eyes smoldering beneath raven locks that hang just in front. He grins, gratified yet still _ravenous._

“Insatiable,” Estinien breathes, hands rising of their own volition to dig fingertips and nails into the soft skin of Aymeric’s waist.

Aymeric’s answering grin sends a wave of warmth through Estinien, and another accosts him when his hips grind down onto Estinien’s cock, coaxing him back to hardness. He leans close and the ends of his hair tickle against Estinien’s face as he whispers, breath warm against his parted lips, so close and yet just out of reach.

“Always.”

**Author's Note:**

> regretfully, i am on twitter [@shoutzwastaken](http://twitter.com/shoutzwastaken)
> 
> NOT regretfully, come join the [book club!](https://discord.gg/X6NJJAb)


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